When Private Thoughts Are No Longer Private
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: Darren belatedly remembers there are some things in his journal he might not want Mr. Crepsley to read… SLASH, DarrenxMr. Crepsley, don't like don't read. Sequel to Literacy, can stand alone. ONESHOT.


**Title: **When Private Thoughts Are No Longer Private

**Author: **IndigoNight

**Summary: **Darren belatedly remembers there are some things in his journal he might not want Mr. Crepsley to read…

**Feedback: **Yes please, yay reviews!

**Pairing: **Darren/Mr. Crepsley, don't like don't read.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Cirque Du Freak or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.

**Spoilers: **Not really…

**Warnings: **SLASH.

**Author's Note: **Sequel to my fic Literacy, though can stand on its own without too much confusion. Anyways, Read, Review, and most importantly,

**Enjoy!**

One night we were sitting quietly. Mr. Crepsley was working his way through my last journal while I worked on updating my current one. A comfortable silence surrounded us, broken only by Mr. Crepsley occasionally sounding a word out under his breath.

When I'd first given him the journals I'd been so touched by his confession that they were what had finally sparked his desire to read and write that I didn't stop to consider what I was doing. They did after all simply tell our story, right? He was part of it, there was nothing to hide.

Yeah... not really. Because after all those journals were my private thoughts, and I'd written things in them that were, well, private. Most of it didn't matter; I didn't keep many secrets from him anyway. Except I am, after all, a teenage boy, and have been for quite a while now.

Of course, I didn't consider that until it was too late. Until he paused, that little frown line between his eyebrows deepening. "Darren," he said, and that one word was a question, an exclamation, and something else entirely indefinable all at once.-

I froze and it only took seconds for all the things in that journal I might not want him to know to filter through my mind. I raised my eyes very slowly to look at him. Would he be angry? Would he kick me out? Would he laugh in my face?

" 'Had another dream about Mr. Crepsley. Worse this time.' " he read aloud, "What precisely does that mean?"

I could have lied I suppose. But he could always tell when I was lying, we knew each other too well for that. And besides, he'd figure it out on his own if he kept reading the journals. I got pretty detailed at some points. I considered just letting him read it, save myself the mortification of explaining. But he was sitting there watching me with those intense eyes, the journal completely forgotten in his lap and I knew he wouldn't be satisfied unless I answered.

"It means what it says," I tried to dodge, "I had a dream about you."

"More than one," he corrected.

I shrugged. "Yeah, it happens sometimes."

"How often?"

Shit. "Every few weeks." Not the entire truth. He glared at me. Damn, I'd sort of hoped I'd get away with that one. "A couple times a week." Closer this time.

He regarded me in silence for several minutes. "What does it mean by worse?" His voice was soft, eye probing, like he can just read the answer out of my mind if h looks hard enough.

"Longer. More detailed." I answered, another partial truth.

Again silence. Longer this time, and much less comfortable. I wanted to turn back to my writing, pretend like I believed the conversation was over, but it was like his gaze held me hypnotized and all I could do was endure it, trying not to fidget.

"What are these dreams about?" I closed my eyes. I'd really been hoping he wouldn't ask that question.

"You," I half answered lamely.

His eyes narrowed with impatience. "What about me?"

"You... and me..." God, I couldn't believe I was really going to say it, out loud. This was probably a really, really bad idea. Catastrophically bad. My heart pounded and my palms sweated, my mouth was dry and I wasn't even sure I'd be able to get the words out. But it was too late to go back, I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes closed because I just couldn't look him in the eyes. "Having sex," I blurted, and waited cringing for the explosion.

It didn't come. Seconds passed. I figured maybe he was in shock. Or had up and flitted on me, never to return. Finally, unable to bare it any longer I opened my eyes, slowly, one at a time. He hadn't moved, and he didn't look shocked, he looked... thoughtful. Those deep, brooding eyes still studying me intensely. In fact I couldn't really read anything in his face, which was disconcerting to say the least. He was so still it was like he'd turned to stone, I couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Please say something," I finally burst.

He drew a deep breath as though snapping back to life. He shifted forward almost imperceptibly, the journal sliding unnoticed from his lap to land on the floor with a slight thump. "You think about me in that way?" There was... something in his voice that I couldn't quite read, but for some reason, it made me want to blush.

I could have lied, I suppose, said they were just dreams. After all, I'm not responsible for what my fuck up subconscious created, right? I knew that wouldn't work, so I merely nodded, my heart in my throat making it impossible to speak.

Then suddenly he was in front of me, staring down at me with dark eyes. I saw him move there, sort of, but no human would have. I still jumped a little when abruptly he was just there, practically touching me.

I stared at him numbly. Maybe he was going to attack me after all. Sure enough, he fisted his hands in my shirt and lifted me to my feet. I waited for it, unresisting.

But he had an entirely different, and much more pleasant, sort of attack in mind than I did. He brought his face in real close to mine and...

Kissed me. Just like that, full on the lips. I gasped and clung to him, my mouth automatically opening to invite him deeper. He tasted faintly of blood and cinnamon just like he had in my dreams, his body warm and solid. I melted weakly into him and figured maybe teaching him to read hadn't been such a bad idea after all.


End file.
